Wildflower
by Amadi the Storyteller
Summary: "Funny to think you left on a day like this," he murmured to the flower, twisting it. "It was a cool Spring, I recall…" A elderly Vaughn takes a moment to remember... Vaughn-x-Chelsea. One-shot.


**Amadi: I've never written for Harvest Moon before and I've never played the Sunshine Islands or Island of Happiness. I've played Tale of Two Towns, Tree of Tranquility and both Wonderful Life games so I'm not new to the HM world. I'm just new to the SI and IoH world so, please excuse the oddities you may see in this snippet. Vaughn MAY be out of character but seeing as this fic takes place when he'd be like in his 60's or 70's, it can be excused I think. **

* * *

**"Wildflower"**

_Fiction by: Amadi the Storyteller_

"That's a good girl," the man murmured, his hand covered in a glove brushing against the ear of one of his cows. She leaned against his palm, cooing like a content cat as she relished her master's attention.

His lips quirked up at the edges of his mouth, a ghost of a smile threatening to appear before he pulled away to adjust the black hat upon his head. Like years ago, it still remained perched on the very same spot, right down to the exact dip the old Stetson liked to take downward at his forehead.

He turned away from the content cattle once he felt everything was settled and reached for his walking stick that remained leaned nearby. His fingers wrapped along the handle tightly, grasping with all his might as the man carried himself out of the barn with a limp. Time hadn't been too kind to the rancher, years of work and labor had finally caught up to him and the cowboy longed for his youthful days. Back when he could move without a cane and back when he still had _her._

He paused to catch his breath, legs trembling from under his form as the old man leaned against his walking stick to steady himself.

Vaughn took in a sharp breath as he reached for his hat, fingers gently creasing the tip. As much as he adored his old hat, he could fondly recall his wife despising the thing. It made him chuckle, deep and gentle before he continued along.

They were bittersweet memories, passing moments that flashed before his eyes as he hobbled across the farm to reach the shed. He needed to get to work on the crops.

But again, the faint aches in his knees paused his trek and the old cowboy huffed, "Ah… Chelsea, I am old aren't I now?" He knew there was no one around but since the woman's passing, he found himself speaking to the thin air.

Heck…

Even after two years, Vaughn found himself stepping through the kitchen at the end of the day with a flower in hand. He'd always used to give Chelsea flowers whenever he could, they were usually wildflowers though. The cowboy always preferred them. He'd set a vase by the window for the flowers despite knowing there was no one to receive them anymore and Vaughn wasn't about to try and break his little habits.

It made him feel as if a part of her was still here anyway.

He still had the farm at least, despite his children having asking the old cowboy to give it up to more able hands.

"_Able hands?" Vaughn had said, eying his daughter with his purple eyes. "What are ya talking about?"_

_His daughter, one of three, had frowned and leaned her hands against the counter. "Daddy, I know Mama's farm means a lot to you. It means a lot to us too but Racheal, Beth and I don't like seeing you push yourself like this…" Her glasses fell along her nose as she reached for her father's frail hand._

_He returned the grip and gave the girl a nostalgic look, "Gwen, I understand yar concern but darling… I have to stay. This place is all I have left of your mother and I plan to work to keep her dream alive. Right down to my last breath, like I had when I first married her."_

Since his wife passing, Vaughn had kept his word and worked from dawn until dusk. Even with his bum leg from a comination of old age and injuries that had never repaired right, he always pushed himself to the limit. Though, the man had promised his daughters he would allow one of the neighbors to care for the livestock on Sundays so he could rest for a day.

Eventually, Vaughn had reached the shed and retrieved what he needed, the cowboy set to work. By late noon, he finished the field and took a seat in the grass. He set his cane nearby and enjoyed the Spring breeze. Vaughn removed his Stetson for the moment and layed it in his lap. The old cowboy sighed as he breathed in the fresh smells of the Spring season. His gloved fingers absently picked up a nearby flower and he twirled it, callaused thumb trailing along the green stem.

"Funny to think you left on a day like this," he murmured to the flower, twisting it. "It was a cool Spring, I recall… You wanted to go to the shore but with being sick, ya couldn't…" His eyes trailed to the vast blue of the sky and he smiled. "You were stubborn as a mule though, disobeyed Trent and headed to the beach. Tried to stop ya but you just gave me a kiss and I realized it was a lost cause to fight with ya…"

At the final part of the memory, his lips fell and the old man tightened his grip on the little flower in his fingers.

Instead of speaking aloud, he sighed and looked down toward his black hat. _You just fell out of nowhere I recall. I hauled you home and called for Trent. He was too late. You were well-gone then and I was speechless to hear you'd had a heart attack…_

Shaking his head, he raised and returned his hat to his head. Reaching for his cane, he eyed the flower once more and smiled slightly. "Chels, sweetheart, I got you another flower for the collection in the window."


End file.
